


Misunderstandings and An Alien Invasion

by Aytheria



Series: Misunderstandings 'Verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assumptions are made, Chitauri invasion, Gen, Harry is a bit of a BAMF, Harry just goes with it, Harry's Saving People Thing, Misunderstandings, Realm Hopping, The Search for Sirius!, Veil of Death, kind of EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6304756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aytheria/pseuds/Aytheria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"A giant of a man wearing what looked like the American flag as some sort of armour was storming towards him from the ground. From above, a red and gold flying metal robot dove towards them. And directly in front of him, an alien struggled through the wreckage of its hovercraft with a snarl and a deadly looking gun. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Sometimes he had to pause a moment to wonder how he got himself into these situations." </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Misunderstandings and An Alien Invasion

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively Titled: Or That One Time Harry Helped Stop An Alien Invasion...
> 
> ...and was consequently mistaken for a supreme being of infinite cosmic power.
> 
> ***
> 
> AN: So, before you all get too excited (or upset because this is not an update to the SPN xovr one-shot), I started writing this directly after the Avengers movie first came out (and about half-way through writing the SPN-xovr one-shot), before the franchise really started picking up and before the plethora of "Harry interferes in Chitauri Invasion" fics started popping up. Because it takes me a gazillion years to finish something for posting, I decided NOT to scrap it and re-start and just keep going. So this is basically just my crack take on something that's already been done to death. But hey, we can never have too many of a good thing, right? Right. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. I tried to be funny. Maybe I succeeded. We'll see.

Harry Potter, as a general rule, was not much one for hysterics. He’d seen and done so many things in his life that very few things could really surprise him anymore. 

Admittedly, the first time he’d stepped through the Veil and discovered a whole host of new dimensions - universes - whatever Hermione wanted to call them - that had been enough to shock him for perhaps the first dozen or so times.

But honestly, by this point he would be surprised if anything could surprise him anymore. Demon-dealing witches? Bring ‘em on. Scary ninja people? That just meant Harry needed to practice dodging. Weird mono-super-powered humans rebelling against their government? Sounded awfully familiar, and frankly, a little magic fit right in. 

Then he began discovering that each of these worlds were not one hundred percent unique unto themselves. Really, he should have guessed. If he could find over a dozen worlds that had various incarnations of the people he knew, then why not a dozen worlds with various incarnations of people he’d never met?

Hermione had a theory. Her theory was that during the formation of the universe, the Big Bang (whatever _that_ was) could have gone in many directions and so it spawned infinite possibilities that all existed along-side one-another. Those infinite possibilities then had their own infinite possibilities - ad infinitum. 

In other words, Harry had dryly pointed out that they could all spend the rest of eternity plugging in destinations to the Veil and still never manage to hit the same world twice. 

Of course, Hermione being Hermione began to notice a pattern within the runes she was using to set up the Veil’s destination. The first block of runes usually specified a universe of a particular nature, and the rest a divergence within that universe. Or so she claimed. 

There might have been something about proto-universes mixed in there as well, but Harry hadn’t much of a head for all that theoretical nonsense like Hermione did. 

What it meant though...it meant that Harry could sort of decide whether he wanted to deal with witches and wizards, pagans, wiccans, ninjas, or super-humans that day (and then there were the worlds that had absolutely no magic to speak of, but those ones were so quick to search he could step in and out of half a dozen before the day was done). 

It meant he settled into a routine. And Harry knew that eventually, routines liked to upset themselves. 

Which is probably why he should have seen this coming. 

After all, if the super-powered humans could have all these strange and weird technologies that almost seemed like magic...then why not aliens? 

_Aliens._

Harry was so done. Aliens! Merlin’s balls and Morgana’s tits, what next? The end of the universe?

Frankly, after the angels and demons, he hadn’t thought he could ever be surprised again. So colour him impressed that this particular universe had managed it. 

It started a little something like this:

  
***

  
Harry had prepared for his afternoon of dimension hopping (usually scheduled for twice a week, with exceptions for increased auror duties or family obligations) with his usual aplomb. He’d kissed Ginny good morning, made himself a nice, solid English breakfast of eggs, bacon and fried tomatoes with toast, then dressed in his best dragon hide and leathers under his battle cloak, transfigured it to look a bit more like a muggle trench coat, and then meandered his way over to the Ministry.

Naturally, he’d been waylaid by the usual number of people all wanting to stop the famous Harry Potter for a chat. Usually just to ask after him and the family. Sometimes to attempt to not so subtly plug some kind of new idea. Other times, they were just fans looking for a bit of thrill. 

Harry, having long resigned himself his lot in life, allowed himself to be delayed with considerably more grace than he had just following the war. Hermione said he’d mellowed out considerably. Harry reckoned it had something to do with Albus’s everlasting bowl of sherbet lemons. Those things were laced with calming draught and really, he popped them into his mouth so often, he was probably permanently mellow. Except when he wasn’t. 

He contemplated the merits and the downsides of sherbet lemons all the way down to the Department of Mysteries. Naturally, Hermione was already there, at her little desk, muttering over notes, a large mug of tea at her elbow. She had a quill stuck through her messy bun of hair, and her robes did not match her undershirt at all. Harry suspected she’d had some revelation in the small hours of the morning and dragged herself here to experiment without even bothering to check what clothes she was throwing on. The Veil Project was not her only job. Hermione had always been a bit of an over-achiever and had taken it upon herself not only to research for the Department of Mysteries, but also to get her sticky fingers into every Department in the Ministry, even if only in some kind of advisory position. She spent an awful lot of time running around, nerves frazzled, but eyes sparkling with fire and drive. Ron tended to be a champ about it, and Harry made it a point to take him out for a pint as often as possible to make up for dating the most insane witch of their age.

Harry meant that entirely affectionately, of course.

“Oh, Harry, there you are!” Hermione greeted with an absent smile as her tea mug balanced precariously on the edge of her desk. Subtly, Harry cast a stabilising charm towards it, because Merlin knew that Hermione probably wouldn’t even notice if it ended up on the floor, knocked off by a swinging robe cuff. 

She puttered around for a while longer, sent off several hastily scribbled messages, before collecting their research materials and Harry’s moleskin pouch. “I’ve restocked the Pepper-up, and a few of the potions were expired, so I’ve replaced those and-” She paused in mid-stride. “What are you wearing, Harry, honestly you’re not going into _battle_.”

Harry glanced down at himself and raised his eyebrows. He begged to differ. Going through that Veil was like opening a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans - you never knew what you were going to get - it could be good...or it could be bad. “You never know,” he said mildly. 

Hermione blinked. “Oh, very well. Yes, of course you ought to be prepared. That’s what the potions are for. Here.” She shoved his pouch at him and strode off towards the Death Chamber. Harry fastened the pouch to his belt with the ties and his best sticking charm. 

They went through the usual pre-travel checks. They talked about what to do, went over old data, made sure they were inputting the right runes and then he was off. 

It started out normally enough. He ended up somewhere in London, as was par for the course when there actually _was_ a London. This London seemed mostly normal - there was no Death Chamber and no Veil - which usually meant this world lacked a Wizarding World. If Hermione’s calculations were correct, he’d landed in some variation of one of those super-human populated worlds.

He always met the most interesting people in these worlds. They may have only had one type of power but they mastered it to such a degree of perfection they were impressively formidable. 

He performed his usual set of locator and scanning spells in London, not expecting any results, and was therefore rather unsurprised when nothing out of the ordinary popped up. He lingered just long enough to tell that while the technology of this world seemed perhaps a tad more advanced than he was used to, there were no outward differences between this London and his own. This dimension also didn’t appear to be in the middle of a war between super-humans and regular humans, so that was always a plus. Apocalyptic worlds, he had decided, were definitely the worst sort.

He figured this world would be quick and easy. Apparate to each major city, do his spells, jot down some notes, poke his nose into things here and there, and be back in time for supper. 

After London, he visited Western Europe and then Eastern Europe. From there, he worked his way across the Middle East, Russia, Asia and South Asia. Using his specially commissioned, repeat-use, international portkey compass, he made it all the way to Australia and New Zealand, before heading back for Japan, and from there, it was a quick hop to California. 

He was quite fond of California. 

Harry had always wanted to travel. The USA had always been one of those places that everyone talked about visiting - like L.A. and New York. 

He hadn’t much been impressed with L.A. San Francisco on the other hand had been quaint and quirky. New York, on the other hand, _was_ quite impressive, although Harry’s heart would forever rest in England. 

He stopped often to sample food, peek into shops, check out the news or talk to the locals. He tried to be unobtrusive and unmemorable, although sometimes that didn’t quite work out (he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop where Sam and Dean Winchester were concerned).

In California, he picked up a newspaper, which declared some kind of incident had occurred in Germany. As Harry had already checked Europe, he only barely skimmed the article about the crazy man with the horned helmet and something about iron men and captains. 

He really probably should have read it. Then again, hindsight is twenty/twenty, as they say.

When he appeared in New York, ready to greet the tall skyscrapers and the smell of car exhaust with his usual cheer, he stopped short. There, in the middle of Manhattan, directly over a tall, shiny, silver skyscraper with the appellation STARK stamped across it, was a giant hole in the sky.

Harry blinked. Then blinked again.

The giant hole was connected to a long bluish beam of energy and from the hole spilled tiny dots that looked an awful lot like spaceships once they got close enough to make out in detail. Spaceships. Hole in sky. Blue energy. Screaming and blasts and noise and dust spilling everywhere. 

Harry stood under it all and simply gaped at the sky. 

_Ha, take that Hermione,_ he thought, dazedly, _who’s over-prepared now?_

He was insanely glad he’d worn his battle robes today. 

Eventually, when the blasting and the screaming and the running, crying citizens of Manhattan reached overwhelming proportions, Harry was forced to stop standing there, gaping. In fact, he began to wonder if perhaps he ought to be doing something more than just standing there gaping, because this was clearly an emergency and…

He had to stop again to breathe, because he was pretty sure he was caught in the middle of a Merlin-be-damned _alien invasion_. 

Harry reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his journal and his ever-lasting quill, and quickly scribbled:

**  
_ALIENS !!_ **

  
Then he put it away and set off across the emptying street at a light jog. 

The police had set up blockades in a poor attempt to contain the damage and the... _aliens_. Merlin’s soggy underpants, but the _aliens!_ They were flying what looked like hover machines of some kind (he really wasn’t all that up-to-date with technology), and resembled humanoid monsters with electric guns and spears which appeared to be all kinds of nasty. They leapt around on the ground like werewolves on a full moon, killing and destroying indiscriminately. 

Harry began to feel that boiling indignation in the pit of his stomach that often precluded irrationally charging headfirst into a bad situation, wands blazing.

He slowed from a jog to a walk as he approached the closest blockade, coming up short behind a row of American black and white police cars. 

“Excuse me,” he addressed the nearest police officer hiding behind his car door. His hand gun seemed to have been completely emptied and now the poor man was merely cowering behind the safety of a piece of metal.

The man looked up, eyes wide. 

“Yes, hello, might I ask what seems to be happening here? Are we talking alien invasion or-”

The policeman made a choking sound in the back of his throat, and an officer a few paces down clutching a megaphone and bellowing at any civilian stragglers to _get inside the subways! get off the damn streets!_ suddenly turned that megaphone on them and nearly busted Harry’s eardrums. 

Harry clapped his hand over his ear with a wince. 

The woman lowered her megaphone with a grim glare and jerked her chin towards the subway entrance all the people were trying desperately to reach. As she was facing Harry, she didn’t see the hover machine swoop down from behind, but Harry did, and he didn’t even bother to think before reacting. 

“GET DOWN!” he shouted, before he spun out from behind the car, flicking his wrist as his coat flared around him protectively. The Elder Wand sprang into his hand. 

Now was time for a little fun. The Wand hummed in his hand, practically purring. 

_Bloodthirsty bugger,_ Harry thought, a little affectionately. 

“ _REPULSO!”_ he bellowed, wand snapping up. 

The woman ducked and rolled just in time. The beam of magic slammed with all the force of the Deathstick’s thirst for battle into the alien hovercraft and sent it smashing into the ground. 

Everything after that happened very quickly. Harry spun his wand into a shield charm at the last second as rocks and dust exploded around them, and a crackle of blue power was only just deflected off it into a nearby store window. The woman he’d protected lay flat on the ground, hands over her head, megaphone now resting several feet away. Harry rose from the crouch he’d ducked into and waved his wand to clear the dust.

A quick flash of sunlight as it reflected off a metal rim was his only warning. 

Harry threw himself forward into a roll, feeling the heavy whoosh of air as _something_ cut straight through his shield charm and embedded itself in the police car’s front bonnet. It had narrowly avoided his back by inches, maybe less. He sprang up from his roll and settled quickly into a duelling position. 

He took in everything with only a second to spare. 

A giant of a man wearing what looked like the American flag as some sort of armour was storming towards him from the ground. From above, a red and gold flying metal robot dove towards them. And directly in front of him, an alien struggled through the wreckage of its hovercraft with a snarl and a deadly looking gun. 

Sometimes he had to pause a moment to wonder how he got himself into these situations.

Harry decided that aliens likely couldn’t be reasoned with, especially ones that murdered and destroyed indiscriminately, so his first order of business was to take down the alien with a well-placed cutting hex. The alien’s head went flying and it dropped like a marionette with cut strings. 

The flying robot pulled up short and hovered above him. It made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a surprised man. The american flag giant changed trajectory in his flat-out run towards Harry just enough that Harry, startled into a defensive spin, only caught the tail end of him yanking some kind of heavy-duty, round, metal dustbin lid from the police car’s bonnet. 

“Are you alright, son?” he asked the cowering policeman. 

“Um, hello,” said the robot, gesturing at Harry. “Random weird man with scary powers standing right there, Cap.”

Harry opened and shut his mouth. Right. Talking robots. He supposed in light of aliens, talking robots was nothing much special.

Dustbin-lid-flag-man turned on Harry, a grim set to his face - what little of it Harry could glimpse from under his mask - and said, “Who are you fighting for?”

Harry glanced between them quickly, well aware that time was scarce and they were in the middle of a battle. “Um, not the aliens?”

The robot and flag man exchanged head nods. “Good enough for me. Take ‘em down however you can. Ironman, can you drop him off in a hot spot?”

The robot - whose name was, appropriately, Ironman - grumbled something, but before Harry could so much as work out what ‘drop off’ meant, the bloody tin can swooped down and grabbed Harry under his armpits like some kind of recalcitrant child. With absolutely no warning at all, he was lifted into the air and dragged off. 

“Hey!” he shouted. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You won’t do much good there,” Ironman replied. “We need more support near the tower.”

It took Harry a moment to work out that the ‘tower’ likely referred to the giant silver STARK skyscraper, as that seemed to be the apex of the invasion. Well, now it read, TAR-K, and any second now, the K was going to come crashing down. 

He squinted against the rush of wind that slipped around his glasses, wishing he’d thought to bring his Quidditch goggles. Then again, being flown through the air during an alien invasion in the middle of New York by a robot named Ironman had not exactly been on his and Hermione’s contingency list. Ron was going to get an absolute kick out of this one. Assuming, of course, he made it back in one piece.

He could see the beam and the hole in the sky more clearly now. It appeared to be a giant open portal into space, if the inky glint of stars against a black velvet backdrop was any indication. “Have you thought about closing the bloody portal?” he bellowed into the wind. 

Ironman had to spin and swerve to avoid a sharp beam off an alien gun. Harry nearly lost the lovely dish of Japanese curry he’d had for lunch. 

“A little warning next time!”

“‘Course we’ve tried closing the damn portal!” Ironman shouted back at him, completely ignoring Harry’s indignant noises at being flung around like a ragdoll. “It’s protected by a barrier - we can’t break through!”

Ah. Warded. Well that was just bloody peachy, wasn’t it? Harry was no expert at warding. He could put up the essential basics with the best of them, but taking them down? He needed Bill Weasley for that. _Mental note, get some books on ward breaking._

“Okay, guys,” Ironman said, suddenly, and Harry got the distinct feeling he wasn’t the one being addressed, “coming in with a new player. He’s - hey, what’s your name? Codename? Any name?”

“Harry,” Harry cut in quickly, before the robot could really get going. 

“Right, uh, codename Harry - no, wait, that sucks. That’s a terrible name. Come on, you need something awesome, like mine. Ummm…”

Harry nearly said, _What, like the Boy-Who-Lived?_ But the joke would go straight over Ironman’s head. If it - _he,_ it sounded male - was even capable of jokes. He talked an awful lot like a human, though, so Harry was optimistic. 

“Alright, alright,” Ironman grumbled, seemingly to no one, “we’ll stick with Harry. Right, gonna drop him off in about three...two…”

Harry only had a moment to brace himself before Ironman swooped down over a mess of broken concrete and overturned cars and released him. Harry flailed for about a second before he threw his momentum forward into a run. He hit the ground at an angle, pushing forward into a roll. He came up covered in small cuts, and empty handed, having been forced to drop the Elder Wand lest it be crushed in the landing. 

“Bloody wanker!” Harry shouted.

“Duck!” a female voice shouted. 

Harry ducked. 

The sound of a gun went off and thudded into something to his side. 

Quickly, he scrambled up, just in time for Ironman to finish his swooping turn and eject something small and black at Harry. Only Harry’s seeker reflexes allowed him to spot and catch it. He pulled his hand back and stared at the tiny piece of plastic in his palm. 

“Put that in your ear!” Ironman shouted, and then he did an about-turn and zoomed off. 

Harry knew a communications earpiece when he saw it, he just hoped the Elder Wand wouldn’t take offence to it and short-circuit it while it was still in his ear. He quickly jammed it in and realised that, yes, Ironman was not crazy and had been listening to a stream of battle-chatter then entire time they’d been flying. Excellent. 

“Duck again!”

Harry nearly sighed. This time, a body leapt over his crouched form and ploughed into another alien. Perhaps it was time he joined in?

And this, Harry thought smugly, was why he had trained with two wands. Quickly, he pulled his holly wand from its holster in his left arm and held out his other hand for a strong, wandless summoning charm. A quick expulsion charm towards a flying alien chariot with his holly wand and the Elder Wand smacked into his palm just in time to raise it into a powerful deflective shield. 

Then he caught sight of the beautiful, leather-clad, red-haired woman who was fighting an awful lot like those ninjas, kicking arse and wreaking devastation through the ranks of the grounded aliens with just her highly nimble body. Harry was momentarily mesmerised. 

Finally, she turned, flipping her hair and giving him an unimpressed look. “Well?” she snapped. 

Right. Battle. Aliens. 

They fought back to back for a few moments, flag-man appearing at some point and bringing their total to three against...Merlin only knew how many aliens, before Harry heard her voice both next to him and over the earpiece. “We need to close that portal.”

Flag-man - who Harry had heard addressed as ‘Cap’ or ‘Captain’ over the earpiece, stopped to deflect a bolt of energy with his overly patriotic, dustbin lid shield, and glanced up. “You’re gonna need a ride.” 

The red-head glanced up at an approaching hovercraft and cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve got a ride.”

Harry watched with some amusement through the shimmer-glow of his shield charm as they continued to banter despite being in the middle of battle. He kind of liked these people. He also suspected they were super-human, mostly because he knew normal humans, not even wizards, could have made a lift and leap like the one Cap and the woman performed as if they were some kind of circus act. It looked so effortless. He watched her soar off on top of a hovercraft and wondered if maybe they needed better aerial support. He had his broom in his moleskin pouch. 

“Need more air support?” he asked over the din of Cap’s dustbin-lid taking out another alien with an impressive spinning throw. His following blasting hex tore up the street and also three approaching aliens. Cap gave him an appreciative nod, catching the dustbin-lid on its return spin. 

“Nah, we’re good up here. Lookit Thor go.” Ironman crowed. 

Harry shrugged. He was happy doing whatever. His blood was pumping, the adrenaline high, and these aliens, while numerous and dangerous, clearly weren’t smart enough to formulate any kind of battle strategy, so as long as his energy and spells kept up, it was like picking off easy targets one by one. 

“Duck,” Harry advised Captain, and shot a blasting hex over the man’s shoulder. He really should stop doing that and maybe stick to cutting curses. While the blasting hexes were more effective, they were doing a number on the pavements and vehicles. 

The battle moved on. Harry and Captain followed it from street to street as they chased down the bulk of the aliens who’d been grounded. They rescued trapped civilians and tried to direct police efforts. Captain seemed to know exactly where and how he wanted things done, so Harry followed his lead, more than content to blast down any murderous alien in his way. 

Alien invasion. Good grief. Hermione was going to have a conniption. 

At some point, Harry noticed that there was a giant green troll bounding around from building to building, smashing into alien chariots and tearing apart the larger leviathans (they reminded him a bit of giant mutant whales). Since the large green troll seemed to be on their side, Harry decided not to worry about it. He’d seen stranger things than giant green trolls smashing aliens. Or, well, _actually_ … 

The battle seemed to be going quite well, he thought with satisfaction. The aliens were still coming through the portal, but it seemed like the Widow had found a way to shut it. Their rag-tag little band of super humans (plus one wizard auror) had quite effectively kept the invasion contained to a small block radius. 

Of course, the minute Harry stopped to think to himself, _Not bad, Potter, not bad at all,_ that was when Ironman grimly informed them there was a nuclear missile headed towards Manhattan island. 

Harry froze in his tracks. 

He knew what a nuke was. He knew damn _well_ what a nuke was. 

“What?” he gasped, but his reply was lost amongst the others’ outrage. His mind worked frantically. He could apparate out, and save himself - he _should_ apparate out and save himself - but could he live with the guilt of knowing he’d condemned thousands of people to death by explosion and nuclear fallout? Even if these people weren’t _his_ people, they were still _people._ Harry stood there, still frozen, unable to act. Hermione would find a way to kill him all over again if he got blown up by a muggle nuke, but...

“Don’t close the portal just yet,” Ironman advised suddenly, breaking into Harry’s increasingly morbid thoughts. He directed his attention to the sky, where he could only just make out the small red and gold figure coming in fast, giant missile above him. 

Ironman had a plan, and Harry could only watch helplessly as he carried it out. 

It was suicide. Harry knew that kind of desperate play all too well. Being on the other end of it - even if the one making the suicide play was a metal robot-man who he barely knew from Adam - was sobering. Harry learned a new appreciation for how his friends must have felt in those moments when they all thought he’d sacrificed himself for Voldemort’s downfall.

He closed his eyes for just a moment and sighed. Three metres away, the Captain made a pained noise in the back of his throat and whispered so softly, Harry doubted anyone else heard, “The sacrifice play, huh, Tony?”

Harry put down an alien straggler then, with a well-placed, silent _diffindo_ , seeing as how the good Captain was preoccupied.

Ironman did it. He flew the nuke straight up into the hole in the sky, disappearing into that black, gaping maw with a kind of fake, jaunty nonchalance that Harry could tell was a front. Time seemed frozen for seconds longer than it should have been, until, suddenly, all around them, the aliens seemed to self-destruct and simply...collapse, like someone had cut their puppet strings all at the same time. Harry wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. 

They waited only as long as they could before the Captain called it and Widow shut off the beam keeping the portal open. 

And then, mere seconds before it shut, the glint of a metal body caught Harry’s well-trained Seeker’s eye as it slipped through that last crack of closure. The Captain gasped and took off running. 

Harry liked to think he was a sensible kind of wizard. After first year when Hermione had flailed about for fire and Ron had bellowed at her for forgetting she was a _witch_ , Harry had always tried to be innovative with his magic. A ‘normal’ person would take off running, in a vain attempt to catch a metal robot liable to crush him like a pancake. A wizard, on the other hand? 

Calmly, Harry stuck his hand into his pouch and called forth his broom. A quick swish and flick later and it was back to its proper size. He swung a leg over, pushing off from the ground in the same movement. 

Now this broom wasn’t just a Firebolt Supreme, but had been custom-made by the company for Harry’s very talented skills - it was faster than the commercial model, more durable, and had no height restriction (which the Ministry demanded on all commercial brooms in order to avoid embarrassing collisions with muggle planes) - so when Harry pushed off, he was speeding towards Ironman’s falling form like a flash - honestly nothing but a blur. He bypassed the green troll, idly noting that it was in the process of leaping from building to building in Ironman’s general direction. He made a sharp turn, cutting a quick spiral corkscrew to get the right angle just under and to the right of Ironman. 

He didn’t try to catch the no doubt heavy metal robot. That would be idiotic. Instead, he whipped out the Elder Wand and shot off his most powerful, _“ARRESTO MOMENTUM!”_

The Elder Wand heated in his hand immediately, humming with raw power - but nothing was too great a task for the Wand and Ironman’s fall immediately began to slow. Within seconds, and a good fifty metres from the ground, he came to a gentle float. Harry let out a huge breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. As the Captain finally skidded to a halt just below and the green troll leapt down next to him, Harry began to guide the limp form to the street. 

Someone else sped by him - Harry caught a flash of silver and red - but he felt it more than saw the figure as the sweeping crackle of power followed him through the air. This one must be the so-called Thor, he thought. 

Then he realised Thor had a giant metal hammer and no broom. 

Clearly he took his mythology very seriously. Harry couldn’t really spare more than a few seconds to wonder, as he was concentrating on not dropping Ironman. 

When the robot was settled gently on the debris-strewn ground, yet another man joined them, swinging down from above on a grappling rope, a bow and empty quiver attached to his back. Harry didn’t even bother trying to work out what his issue was. 

They didn’t spare more than a few odd looks at Harry’s broom, for which he was grateful. While they were all distracted tearing at Ironman-

“Wait a second-” Harry began in alarm, only to fall silent in surprise as the faceplate was ripped off to reveal...well...a _man._

Apparently Ironman was a lot less _iron_ than Harry had suspected. Was that a flying robot _suit of armour?_ Merlin’s balls this world was strange. 

When no one paid him any mind, pounding on Ironman’s chest and shouting at him to “Wake up!” Harry discretely put away his broom then wandered over and shot an “Ennervate!” at the man’s face. 

His eyes shot open, his chest, which had previously been dull and lifeless, immediately hummed to life, and he coughed and gasped. Captain, whose face had been hovering very close to Ironman’s, laughed in relief. Ironman, who appeared to be quite well-groomed for a man who ran around in metal armour, turned his head groggily and blinked. “Please tell me no one kissed me?”

Harry rolled his eyes. 

Ironman groaned some more, making a huge production of his near death experience, reminding Harry an awful lot of Draco Malfoy when he was being a spoiled brat. Harry decided that since the battle was clearly over and he actually had more important things to be doing, he should probably finish up in New York and then be on his way back to England. 

Naturally, that’s not what happened. 

“And where do you think _you’re_ going?”

Harry froze mid-step and turned around quickly, plastering on a ‘who me?’ look, and smiling.

The big blonde man in the red cape who took his name (or codename, perhaps?) too seriously, stepped forward, expression full of gravity. “Hail, friend!” he intoned. Intoned, because there was really no other way to describe the dramatic pomp behind his speech. “To whom do we owe our thanks for such timely aide? I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard!”

Harry’s throat worked desperately. He was caught between laughter and...well, laughter. Eventually he managed a weak, “I’m Harry, nice to meet you.” He wasn’t about to go proclaiming all his own ‘titles’ to all and sundry. Not that they would mean anything to these people. 

Thor, however, was not satisfied. His brow furrowed comically and his mouth pulled down at the edges. “Verily, we are now compatriots in battle! From where do you hail?”

“Er,” said Harry, eloquently. He made a vague gesture that didn’t really say much at all. “Not...here?”

Thor’s expression seemed to lighten. His eyes widened, as did his sudden grin. “Ah! A traveller! Tell me, traveller Harry, son of…?”

Harry sighed, resisting the urge to run his hand through his dust-speckled hair. “James.”

“Tell me, Harald Jameson-” Harry nearly corrected him but Thor’s boom did not slow, nor did it soften. “Are you of the Vanir? Or perhaps you have come from outside the Nine Realms? Your aide is most welcome here-”

“Now wait just a minute,” said the Captain, holding up his hands as he stepped forward. Thor cut off in surprise. Clearly, he was not used to being interrupted. Both large blond men stared each other down for a few moments, until someone else interrupted. 

“Yeah, if we’re dealing with more aliens, Fury’s not gonna like that,” said the bowman. 

The green troll grunted.

_More aliens?_ Harry thought with a smidgen of worry. Then his brain caught up with the plot and he realised _he_ was the supposed alien. 

Suddenly, the Widow strolled up from out of nowhere, looking far more put together than she had any right to after such a gruelling battle. She flicked a piece of hair out of her face and slung a hand on her hip. “Well, we can deal with that later. Right now there’s a very smashed god upstairs.”

_Oh no,_ Harry realised, _not the pagan god thing again._ He hoped this world didn’t also have angels, demons, and devil-worshippers as well, or he was out of here. before you could say ‘Quidditch!’ In fact, that was looking more and more favourable by the minute. He edged away, but Thor suddenly popped up next to him and grabbed him by the shoulders in some kind of manly hug. “Come, Friend Harald! We must deal with my brother, then we may speak of your visit!”

Harry winced and shook his head to reduce the ringing in his ears. Over his shoulder, Ironman, supported by the Captain, shot him a knowing smirk.

That was how Harry found himself rather manhandled down the street and into the tall, shiny silver skyscraper (now missing all its letters but the ‘A’). The foyer was abandoned, albeit debris free. The lift seemed to be in working order. Ironman mumbled something at it and it simply started up without anyone having to push any kind of button.

It was a little squashed. Harry was pressed into a corner and had he been remotely claustrophobic, he probably would have had a terrible time of it. Thor’s cape and... _armour_ was incredibly uncomfortable pressed into the squishy soft parts of Harry’s body not protected by his own dragon-hide. 

Then there was the hammer. Harry could _feel_ the hammer and it wasn’t even touching him. It had a strange sort of hum about it, like too much power was contained within its metal frame and threatening to break free at any moment. It had a strange sort of electrical buzz to it that Harry simply couldn’t place. It felt like magic and yet...not. 

Silently, he wondered whether this topped the Winchester Incident or not. He and Ron had set up a betting pool with the boys down at the Three Broomsticks. It was now a weekly ritual for anyone who could to show up for stories of Harry’s latest madcap adventure and people had started making bets (begun, naturally, by Lee Jordan and George) about what would happen next and whether his next adventure could top the Merlin forsaken craziness of his previous ones. There was an additional running pool on what problematic misunderstandings might occur and Harry pondered whether being mistaken for a pagan god trumped being called an alien. Seeing as pagan gods may or may not be involved in this alien mess as well, it might just. 

The lift didn’t so much as ding when it reached the appropriate floor, the doors simply slid open with a kind of soundless grace and everyone piled out. The green troll, who hadn’t ridden the lift with them (because frankly how would he fit?), was already in the decimated apartment floor, having climbed up the outside of the skyscraper like some kind of small, green King Kong. 

There was, Harry noticed with a raised eyebrow, an imprint in the marble flooring. A man-shaped imprint. In which lay a very oddly dressed, pale, black-haired man who looked quite the worse for wear. The green troll was glaring at him, though he appeared quite unconscious. 

“Oh brother,” sighed Thor mournfully, shaking his head. 

Harry stepped gingerly over some torn up marble, edging around the smashed stone to get a better look. Widow, with all the self-assurance of a woman in command, simply strolled up and nudged the unconscious man’s side with a curl of distaste to her mouth. “He’s still out,” she stated, unnecessarily. 

Ironman coughed from his position draped across the Captain’s shoulders. “Good. Look at the state of my penthouse. I hope he knows he’s paying for damages.”

Everyone rolled their eyes. Captain let out an exasperated, “Stark.”

Ironman, or Stark, apparently, merely grumbled and made a motion towards Thor’s unconscious brother. Harry tried to find the family resemblance and couldn’t. They appeared as different as night and day. 

“Can I shoot him?” asked the bowman with a kind of vicious darkness in his voice that smacked of revenge. When Widow shot him a look and Thor frowned, he appeared unrepentant. “Just a little? Maybe an eye? Just an eye.”

“No,” said the Captain flatly. “We’re going to turn him over to Shield and then-”

“No,” Thor boomed, cutting the Captain off. “Loki will face Asgardian justice for his crimes!” Then he crossed his arms and set his shoulders and Harry reckoned it would take a mountain and then some to sway him. 

“Now, wait a damn minute-” Stark started, eyes flashing. 

“Thor-” Widow also started. 

“No way!” the Bowman cried. 

The Captain put a hand to his head and sighed. 

The green troll roared, “Hulk _punish_ puny god!”

The unconscious man began to groan in the universal sign of waking up. 

Harry merely stood and watched it all and wished he had a cup of tea, a couple of liquorice wands and some Every Flavour Beans because this was turning into great entertainment.

He did, however, have an everlasting bowl of sherbet lemons. While the group of super-humans, gods, aliens, _whatever_ , argued over who got to do what to the slowly waking Loki (Loki and Thor...Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew enough Norse Mythology to know _those_ names. The question was, were they for real, or just crazy super-powered humans styling themselves gods?), Harry made his way over to the mostly intact bar and leaned against it. He pulled his bowl of sherbet lemons out of his moleskin pouch, summoning a china tea set - simple and bone white, with little gold snitches around the rims of the tea cups was the limit of his conjuring creativity - and then set about making himself a nice, relaxing cup of tea to deal with the post-battle loss of adrenaline that was settling in. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ironman - Stark - shouted suddenly. “Time out!” The clink of metal on metal sounded, and Harry glanced up from pouring his tea to see everyone following his metal-clad finger over to Harry. “Where the hell did that come from? Are you having _tea_? Guys, is the weird glow-stick guy seriously just having _tea_ _and crumpets_ in my penthouse? How is that even a thing? Is-”

“Stark,” Widow cut him off.

They all stared at Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow and sipped at his tea. He lowered the cup to its saucer and said, pointedly, “Would anyone else like a cup of tea whilst I’m at it?”

“I’m dreaming,” Stark, Ironman, mumbled, putting a hand over his eyes dramatically. “Pinch me, I’m dreaming. Jay, are you getting this? Please tell me you’re recording this because I want to know how that tea set got there. That is not my tea set. I don’t even know if I _own_ a tea set. Pretty sure I don’t own any tea. Jarvis!”

“No, sir, you do not,” came a disembodied voice from the ceiling that Harry assumed must belong to the skyscraper’s security detail. 

Behind them, Loki groaned and really began to stir. 

Everyone quickly lost interest in Harry’s mysteriously appearing tea set and turned to crowd around the waking man - god - thing.

Harry sipped his tea and popped a crunchy lemony piece of goodness into his mouth. 

_Now what?_ he wondered. 

  
***

  
Naturally, there was a shady government organisation. They showed up after about an hour to take Loki into custody. Then they made a big fuss about Harry’s presence. It was only Thor standing strong and un-cowed, impressively armoured arms crossed, face set, and giant metal hammer hanging from his belt that dissuaded the black-clad spy people from trying to take Harry ‘into custody’. 

Harry would have liked to have seen them _try_.

Afterwards they all, Harry included, went out for some type of food called shaw-arm-a. Harry found himself dragged along to this as well. These so-called ‘avengers’ were really quite a pushy lot. 

The ‘avengers’ as Harry had discovered, were a bunch of super-humans or humans with special abilities who apparently acted a lot like super heroes. Harry didn’t know much about how super heroes were normally portrayed, but he was certain the only two that actually acted remotely super-hero-esque were Captain America and Thor. 

And the _names._

Harry nearly snorted his tea when he heard that the Captain was in fact Captain _America_. The green troll was apparently a man called Bruce Banner, but had been termed ‘the Hulk’ when imitating what Ironman - aka Tony Stark - called ‘a giant green rage monster’. 

Harry could have told him Banner was a troll, if they had bothered asking. A green _were_ -troll. Merlin’s balls but Ron was going to get a kick out of that one.

So, there was Captain America, Ironman, the Hulk, the Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Thor. 

When they started trying to come up with a codename for Harry, he put his foot down. 

“No.”

“But,” said Stark around a mouthful of pita bread and shaved meat. “It’s only right.”

“No,” said Harry again. 

“Power Man?” Hawkeye - Clint Barton - mused. 

“No.”

“What even _are_ you?” Stark complained. “Thor, buddy, who is this guy, anyway?”

Harry calmly picked a slice of cucumber out of his own shwa-rama-thingy and said, “ _This guy_ is sitting right here and has ears.”

“Why,” Thor exclaimed over his _third_ shara - _pita bread_ , Harry was going to call them _pita bread_ , “what you see before you is someone much akin to my brother! A _sei_ ∂ _r_ user!”

“A what-y-what?” said Barton, eyes narrowing at Harry in suspicion, though the effect was slightly ruined by the chip hanging out of his mouth. 

“A user of the _sei∂r_ arts! Ah...yes, I believe you term it...magic?”

Harry sighed.

“Another Asgardian?” Black Widow - Natasha Romanoff - asked thoughtfully as she eyed Harry much like one eyed a complex Arithmacy equation. Harry nibbled at his pita-sarnie in response.

Thor chuckled and turned in his seat so he could address the whole table, including Harry who had been bullied into sitting next to him. He polished off the last of his _third_ pita bread sarnie before explaining with dramatic hand gestures, “Nay, friends! There are many of the races of the Nine Realms and beyond who can wield the great cosmic energies of the universe!” Then he reached over and clapped Harry on the back in a move that nearly sent him head-first into the table. Harry gasped and spluttered. Tony Stark didn’t even bother hiding his grin. “Friend Harald here is likely of the Vanir, for they are great mages!”

“Mage!” Stark crowed. “That’s what we’ll call you!”

“No,” Harry gasped out as he tried valiantly to recollect all the air that had been forced from his lungs. “Absolutely not. I have enough names and titles, I don’t need any more.”

Thor focused on him with scary intensity. Harry belatedly remembered he’d introduced himself as Thor, _Prince_ of Asgard. “You are titled?” Thor asked intently. 

Harry felt like banging his head against the table. He sighed. “It’s nothing. Never mind.”

“What, you mean like all-hail his royal stuffiness type titles?” Stark asked cheekily. He wiggled sauce-covered fingers with a dramatic flourish. 

“Tony,” Banner sighed in exasperation. 

“Shut up, Stark,” added Natasha. 

Meanwhile, Thor was running a hand thoughtfully over his hammer. “If you have standing amongst your people, then you cannot be of the Vanir, for I most certainly would have heard of you,” he decided. “You must hail from outside the Nine Realms! Are you of Xandar, perchance?”

Harry was still trying to work out what the so-called ‘nine realms’ even _were_. Did this planet also have a dimension travelling device? Maybe they had access to nine dimensions? In that case, he hoped that the dimension that contained the creepy alien invasion force was never one he and Hermione stumbled across.

“I think,” he said slowly, certain now that he’d be able to clear up this little misunderstanding, “I am not from your Nine Realms.”

“Yes?” Thor prodded eagerly. 

“Oh, great, so definitely alien,” Barton sighed. 

_Alien must be what outsiders are called,_ Harry decided. He supposed it only made sense. Technically, he _was_ an alien, by that definition. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” exclaimed Stark. 

“Hold on,” said Captain America - aka Steve Rogers - with a puzzled furrow of his brow. “So, let me get this straight. There’s Asgard and the other nine worlds-”

“Seven,” Thor pointed out. “Not including Midgard.”

“Right, other seven not including Mid- _Earth._ ” Rogers shook his head and cleared his throat. “So, there’s the nine, um, realms...and you’re telling me there are more worlds beyond even that?”

Thor cleared his own throat, though it sounded more like a drain pipe spluttering, and drew himself up. “The Nine Realms,” he explained in a deep, compelling voice, “are so-named because they rest in the branches of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. They exist on different planes and cannot be reached by conventional means, such as spacecraft. There are many planets within _this_ galaxy, however, inhabited by many space-faring races. They may reach Midgard through conventional means such as space craft, but as Midgard is under our protection, travel to Terra is currently forbidden.”

Tony Stark could only frown pensively. Steve Rogers looked utterly flummoxed to find that such a large variety of life existed outside the Earth. His fingers had frozen over his basket of chips as he frowned in thought. Natasha Romanoff, on the other hand, did not look remotely flustered (although Harry had come to the conclusion that she only had one setting: kick-ass). Next to her, Clint Barton had begun to grin like all his childhood dreams had come true, and Bruce Banner appeared to be thinking deeply. Harry, however, began to ponder whether this was true of most worlds he visited and it was simply that none of them were advanced enough to have noticed that they weren’t the only life in the galaxy. He wondered if he went home and tried to search for alien life if he’d end up successful. Could there be more out there?

“Friend Harald?”

Harry stopped fiddling with the chips on his plate. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to call them ‘fries’ as they weren’t hardly proper chips at all. He dusted the salt off his fingers. “Yes?”

“From what planet do you hail?” Thor prodded.

Harry shook his head. “No, I think it’s more along the lines of your Nine Realms - definitely not accessible by spacecraft. You need a dimensional portal.”

Thor’s brow furrowed. “There are only the Nine Realms. No other.”

Harry’s mouth twitched in amusement. Nine? Oh how he _wished_ there were only nine! Then again, perhaps there were only nine accessible with the level of dimensional travel available to these people, but for the Veil? The possibilities were endless. “Maybe for _you_ ,” he said, wryly.

Thor blinked in surprise. He stared at Harry, hard. Then squinted and stared some more. Harry shifted in his seat, plucking a _fry_ from his plate and putting it in his mouth. 

“Okay, someone want to clue me in?” asked Stark, head bouncing between Harry and Thor. 

Thor’s voice dropped to normal conversational tones, which seemed loud regardless due to the sudden silence. “What Friend Harald is implying is that his people have greater magics than our most advanced realm of Asgard…” he trailed off, frowning. “That there are in fact _more_ than Nine Realms, but that we of the Nine Realms have simply yet to discover them.”

Harry licked the salt off his fingers. “Just about.”

Out of all the places he’d visited, this was perhaps the most technologically advanced dimension. Also the dimension that seemed to be taking him the most seriously. It was nice to get all those pesky misunderstandings cleared up like civilised folk every once in a while.

“Then…” mumbled Banner.

“Then, we are speaking to an Elder!” Thor interrupted, expression lighting with awe. “Tell me, Elder Harald, how long have your people been visiting the Nine Realms?”

Harry was fairly certain that most of the people at the table were older than he was, or about the same age. Perhaps only Steve Rogers was younger. Banner and Stark were certainly older than Harry. 

Or...was this something to do with the Wand? No, that was ridiculous. Thor could have no possible knowledge of the Elder Wand. Harry’s fingers sought out the wand snug in its sheath on his arm, anyway.

“Um,” he said, when six very interested faces stared intently at him. “I’m the first?”

Thor’s eyes nearly bugged. He leapt from his seat, nearly upending the table. As it was, Barton’s fries spilled all over his lap and he cursed. Thor exclaimed, loud enough for the shop owners to hear, and probably anyone out clearing rubble on the streets, “A First Contact! Elder Harald, we are honoured!” And then he made a short bow. 

Harry began to suspect that maybe their communication had become a bit mixed up along the way. 

“Whoa, Thor, buddy, sit down,” said Rogers quickly, gesturing pleadingly as the shop owners stopped sweeping up the damage and turned to stare at them all in surprise. “Let’s keep this quiet for now, please?”

Thor sat down slowly. “Yes, my apologies, but to think - so historic an event and I am its ambassador. Elder Harald, you must come speak to my father so that we might negotiate a treaty between our realms!” His enthusiasm began to pick up again towards the end and everyone at the table sighed in resignation. Except Harry, who was busy panicking. 

Come speak to Thor’s _father?_ Treaty between realms? 

Harry thought this often enough, but...Hermione was going to _kill_ him. He really should have turned tail and bloody skedaddled out of this crazy place _before_ he got adopted by a superhero team. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair and groaned. 

“I think,” said Natasha thoughtfully, around slow sips of her drink, “seeing as how he has made ‘first contact’ on Earth, that he really ought to talk to Fury first. He’ll want to know about all of this.”

Barton made a gesture with a fry. “Yeah, but you get brownie points for helpin’ us out with the invasion and all.”

“I don’t-” Harry began. 

“Nay!” Thor cried, fisting his hand. Harry began to worry for the integrity of the table. “Midgard is under the purview of Asgard, and thus it is to Odin-AllFather he must present himself! We will use the Cube to go to Asgard-”

“Wait a minute!” Harry exclaimed, flinging up his hands quickly to halt all argument. He was _not_ travelling to any dimensions that didn’t contain an open portal back home. “Sorry, no. My portal home is _here_ , not on Asgard.”

Thor faltered, looking mildly flummoxed. He settled back again, fists uncurling, expression reminding Harry of an upset puppy. 

Natasha suddenly had a phone in her hand. Harry couldn’t have said how long she’d had it there. “We’ll have to take a look at the portal, of course.”

“No,” said Harry, quickly. “Absolutely not.”

The whole table stopped eating and fidgeting to stare at him. Harry defiantly ate a fry. 

“So you would rather some _other_ organisation or worse, a civilian, or-”

“Super-villain!” Stark cut in. 

Natasha shot him a quelling look. “You’d rather someone who isn’t invested in the world’s best interests find your portal?”

Harry shook his head, as his foot tapped out an aggravated rhythm on the dust-covered floor. “No one’s going to find my portal.”

They were, after all, all technically muggles. Superhuman or not, they didn’t have _Harry’s_ kind of magic, so they wouldn’t be able to see past his wards. They’d be repelled like normal, he was sure of it. Thor...Thor might be an issue. His eyes darted to Thor’s hammer and the strange, magic-like hum it gave off. 

On the other hand, Thor seemed easily distracted - like Ron when he was hungry and presented with food. Harry felt confident that he could keep Thor away. In fact, he thought, as his fingers began to imitate his foot on the cheap plastic tablecloth, perhaps it would be best if he simply upped and left. These Avengers seemed like they had this invasion mess all well in hand. Harry wasn’t here to have tea and make new friends, he was here with a _purpose_. Research and Sirius. Sirius and research. Mostly Sirius.

He realised he had yet to write down anything in his journal yet, and cursed softly. Hermione constantly said he had to write it down immediately, while it was freshest, if he wanted to be a proper researcher. 

“Fury wants to meet you,” Natasha suddenly announced. 

“Elder Harald should visit with-” Thor began, only to fall quiet in surprise as Harry pulled out his journal and a self-inking quill, and quickly got to scribbling. 

Rogers squinted at it. “Is that a…?”

“Interesting,” murmured Banner. Harry glanced up long enough to see that everyone was staring at him. Tony Stark’s face was slowly broadening with a grin.

Harry jotted down all their names and what he knew of their abilities in his messy scrawl (of which Hermione forever despaired). Really, if he didn’t get all this written down, she would not be best pleased. 

“Thor, buddy, pal,” Stark said slowly, voice slightly too thoughtful to be anything other than mocking, “tell me...is it a trend for you advanced alien civilisations that the more advanced you supposedly are, the more backwards you do things?”

“You mean this?” Harry held up the quill between thumb and forefinger, before Thor could work out enough of Stark’s comment to become offended. He wrote: _Tony Stark - Ironman - flies a robot suit of armour - has energy beams and perpetual foot in mouth disease. Fred would like him._

Stark had a point though, he decided as he pressed just a little too hard with the quill nib and it left a blob, he’d have probably done a mite better on his schoolwork if he’d been allowed ballpoint pens. Quills were pretty, but awfully hard work to maintain and use. He’d become so used to them over the years, though, that he barely noticed anymore. 

“Uhhh, is that _parchment_?” Stark said in lieu of an actual answer. 

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Fury’s on his way,” Natasha announced calmly, like she’d never been interrupted in the first place. She stole some of Barton’s fries and popped them into her mouth. 

Harry wrote, _super spy ninja. red-head,_ under her entry, as if that explained everything. Hermione would understand. There was something about red-heads, Harry thought, that always made them formidable opponents.

“Whatcha writing?” Barton asked, craning his neck to get a look. 

Harry snapped the book shut with a polite smile. “Nothing,” he responded, and reached for some more fries. The journal and quill disappeared back into his moleskin pouch. 

“Okay, no,” Stark announced before Barton could respond. “No, no, no. You cannot just put a book that size into a pouch that big. That breaks the laws of physics!”

Banner stood up so he could crane his neck past Thor’s giant frame. He squinted behind his glasses and his mouth opened slightly. “Huh.”

“Brucie baby, tell him.”

“Some kind of dimensional technology? Spatial warping?” Banner mused. He shrugged apologetically. “I have no clue. That’s quite amazing.”

Harry held up the pouch. “Space-expansion. It’s bigger on the inside than the outside. We’re very good at that sort of thing.”

“How intriguing,” murmured Thor. “Such technologies must be prized.”

Harry shifted in his seat, shrugging with a slightly rueful grin. “Actually, we use them for pretty much anything and everything. Most buildings will be bigger on the inside than the outside. Trunks, closets, bags…” he paused, shrugging again. “Anyway, gents, lady,” he nodded to Natasha, “I rather think I should be off.”

Before Harry could even half-rise out of his seat, Thor was already gripping his shoulder, expression openly begging. “Elder Harald, I must insist you speak with my father!”

“Fury’s nearly here,” Natasha added, the screen of her phone reflecting the light from the shop as she tapped away on it. Harry admitted to some curiosity about the advanced technology, as these touch-phones appeared far more sleek and capable than any he’d seen in any other technologically advanced dimension. 

He sighed and sat back down slowly, unable to go anywhere with the heavy pressure of Thor’s hand on his shoulder. He was abnormally strong. 

He’d see this out, just a while longer, he decided. If it started to get truly hairy, he’d just up and go - apparate back to London and close the portal. They wouldn’t be able to follow him - he hoped. 

Harry frowned. Thor’s people already had dimension-travelling technology. What if he _could_ open a portal into Harry’s world?

Then again, there were so _many_ worlds out there, he doubted they’d get the right one. But then Thor and these avengers could be walking into a world ruled by Voldemort or worse. 

_Oh bugger all,_ he decided. _This is not going to end well._

  
***

  
Fury was a pirate. A great, big, black man in a black leather trench coat and a large black eyepatch. Harry had always thought Kingsley to be impressively intimidating when he chose to be, but Fury the Pirate? So much more so. He walked like he owned the country, like if he said ‘jump’ then everyone in the vicinity would ask ‘how high’. 

Harry had never been very good with authority figures. Apparently, neither was Stark. 

“Ahoy matey, Fury ho and approaching f-” Stark cut off as Rogers elbowed him in the side. He gave Rogers an overly exaggerated wounded look. Rogers did not look amused. 

Harry raised an eyebrow in his own private amusement and continued to observe the man called Fury. It took him maybe two seconds to come to roughly the same conclusions as Stark. He also decided that a few more scars and missing pieces and Fury could have given Mad-Eye a run for his money. 

Fury’s one eye passed over them all like a king looking down upon his kingdom. Finally, he fixed that single eye on Harry. Seeing as he didn’t have a second eye whirling around crazily in his head, the intensity with which he stared at Harry didn’t much effect him. Harry stared back, arms crossed lazily as he leaned back in his seat, pleasantly full from his pita bread meal and far too many overly salty American fries. Fury’s eye flickered to Thor, who had since loudly protested that Harry absolutely _had_ to visit with his father, the great Odin All-Father (the name, being pretentious enough, told Harry that if Thor got his way, there was likely to be a cross-dimensional diplomatic incident. Harry did not do well with keeping his mouth shut or respectable), was looking quite disgruntled. He was currently sulking. 

“So,” said Fury as he took in the very much unsecured perimeter and the fact that they’d all congregated in a half-destroyed kabab shop, the owners of which were doing a poor job of hiding their curiosity at the entire affair. 

“For the record?” Stark piped up. “The nuke? Not cool. You can tell your world council people that the next time they order a nuke strike on _my_ city, I’ll turn it around and shove it up their asses and see how they like it.”

Harry expected Rogers to elbow Stark again, but he didn’t. Instead he crossed his impressively bulging arms, set his face in a stern look that would have lesser people feeling duly chastened, and nodded firmly. Fury stared back impassively. Rogers narrowed his eyes. “I gave my life to keep this country from being nuked by the Nazis and you think I’m going to sit by and let the people who are supposed to be looking out for its best interests do the same? Not while I still have breath.” 

Everyone but Natasha looked reluctantly impressed by this and Stark held up his fist and said, “Bro.” Rogers merely frowned in puzzlement. Stark’s face fell. “Seriously, Cap? The fist bump? Seriously?”

Hesitantly, Rogers uncrossed his arms long enough to tap Stark’s fist with his own, still looking faintly puzzled. 

Fury let out a loud sigh. He nodded at Rogers. “I’ll be having a long overdue conversation with the W.S.C.” When this appeared to satisfy the so-called Captain of America, Fury turned his gaze back to Harry and said, “So, this is the mysterious alien who appeared after the portal opened.”

Harry, no stranger to being accused of things he had no part in, narrowed his eyes. “If you’re implying I came through that portal, I didn’t.”

Fury’s single eye narrowed in return. “Oh?”

Harry gestured vaguely in the direction he thought might by the Atlantic Ocean. “I’ve been here for quite some time already. This city was my last stop. I’ve already visited the rest of this world.”

Fury merely nodded, thought his posture did not appear to relax in any way. “I want you to come down to S.H.I.E.L.D and give a statement.”

Harry pretended to think about it, kicking Thor’s leg when it looked like he was about to open his mouth and make another protest about his father and Asgard. Thor was so shocked by this, his mouth didn’t utter a single syllable and Harry had time to say, as politely as he could bring himself to manage, “No thanks.”

Fury stilled. “No?”

Harry nodded firmly. “Yes, _no._ I’m actually just passing through. No intentions of staying, so, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way shortly.” There, appropriately diplomatic. Hermione would be proud.

“That’s not how we do things here, Mr…” Fury trailed off deliberately.

Harry nearly said something absurd, like ‘Godric Gryffindor’ or ‘Xenophilius’, but he’d already given his _real_ name to the rest of the group, so he sighed and said, “Harry Potter.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence after that. Fury merely stared at him with his one eye. Harry stared back, stubbornly. Fury had _nothing_ on Snape. It was Banner that broke the staring contest, when he mused, “You know, I’ve been wondering, but...Harry Potter’s not a very alien name?”

“Harry is usually short for Harold, isn’t it?” said Rogers. 

“No, Henry, it’s short for Henry,” said Romanoff.

Harry would have liked to point out that his name wasn’t short for _anything_ thank you very much, but Thor suddenly decided he couldn’t keep silent any longer. 

“In Asgard, Harald is a noble name!” he boomed. “I see no problem with Elder Harald’s name!” Then, as everyone was adjusting to this new piece of information, he turned to Harry with a puzzled look. “I thought you were the Son of James? Not Pott.”

Harry shook his head slowly. “It’s...er, we have last names?”

“Then you are not Harald Jameson?” Thor wondered. 

“If it makes you feel better, James is my middle name.”

Stark suddenly spluttered. He pulled his drink away from his mouth and wiped at the corners of his lips quickly. He was trying to hide a laugh. “Wait, wait, so you’re telling me your name is _Harold James Potter?_ Can you get any more respectable? Or English?”

Harry drew himself up, eyes narrowing. 

Thor suddenly struck the table, apparently in revelation, as his grin was back, full force. “I see! You take your father’s name as your second name, and following this you have a family name!”

Harry blinked, taken aback. He turned away from Stark, noting that Romanoff had tilted her chair back and was slowly popping fries into her mouth like popcorn. Fury was still standing at the head of the table, arms crossed and appearing strangely patient. Harry would have thought he wouldn’t want to wait around for them to argue the value of names. Then again, maybe it was distracting him from trying to drag Harry off to his super secret government agency. 

He decided to humour Thor. “Uh, yes. That’s generally how it goes. Names get passed down, sometimes from several generations ago. I’m just glad my family didn’t have some ridiculous naming theme like a lot of the other families do.”

Names, Harry thought, were a nice safe topic. Anything to get Thor to forget his one-man mission to drag Harry off to treat with his father. 

“Ridiculous how?” Barton piped up, trying to slap Romanoff’s fingers away from filching his fries. He wasn’t having much luck.

“Well, the Black Family is quite fond of constellations,” Harry said dryly. “And my mother’s family was awfully fond of flower names.”

Thor wasn’t the only one who actually appeared to be paying attention to this ridiculous conversation, but he was certainly the most invested. He actually leaned forward eagerly. “Is this a practice of the noble families?”

Harry shrugged. He thought about the Malfoys and the Blacks and all the other Pureblood families and their penchant for strange names. “Likely.”

“And you are of the Potter Family?”

“Okay!” Fury interrupted suddenly, startling them all. Harry had actually forgotten that the man had come to interrogate him, he’d just been standing there so calmly and quietly. “I’ve heard enough. _Mr._ Potter, you can come with me now.”

Thor stood, shaking the table as his hip bumped the edge. Stark’s coke tipped over and spilled all over the last few fries left on his plate. He yelped and pushed his chair back before the liquid could spread over the edge of the table. Rogers’ reflexes had him saving his own drink before it could spill. He spared a smug look at Stark, who merely pulled a face in response. Harry felt like he was dining with Ron and Ginny. 

“ _Elder_ Potter should come with me!” Thor said loudly, arms crossing and chest puffing. He managed to look just as intimidating as Fury despite the lack of overwhelming black or eyepatch. The slight taste of ozone developed in the air and Harry’s fingers tingled. 

Fury snorted. “He’s all yours... _after_ my men have questioned him.”

Thor frowned in thought, apparently finding merit in this idea. Harry was quite fed up with being fought over like a prize. He stood up as well, taking care not to jostle the table. He cleared his throat. 

“I believe I said I wouldn’t be going anywhere? I stand by that. Now, I reckon I’ll be on my way. Good luck with the clean up.” He spared a second to adjust his cloak-turned-coat and stepped around Thor, giving Fury a stern, no-nonsense, ‘I dare you to stop me’ look. 

Really though, he’d be quite happy if no one tried to stop him. All this alien and elder nonsense was getting a bit out of hand. He’d like to just be done with it and wash his hands of the whole affair. He’d tell Hermione to put this world’s sequence on alert and leave it to her to deal with Thor’s people if they tried to cross through the Veil. 

On second thought…

Harry paused, frowning. No, he decided, there was no way Thor or anyone would find the right sequence for Harry’s world. There were too many to count, after all, and Harry reckoned his own was quite far removed from any of these ‘nine realms’ Thor kept going on about. 

There was a mad scrambling behind him as he made to step out of the food joint. “Wait-!” called Stark. “I still haven’t figured out the trick with the tea pot!”

“Stark, now is really not the time-”

“You cannot leave before you speak to my father-”

“Ah, Mr. Potter, please could you-”

“Sir, should I stop him?”

Harry paused then, tensing. He turned to stare at Natasha Romanoff as she stood casually next to her chair, whole body relaxed like she wasn’t ready to spring into action any second. Harry knew how deceptively quick and flexible she was. He readied himself for a last-minute apparation. 

Fury turned to pin Harry with a narrow-eyed look. “Stand down, Widow.” He folded his arms behind his back and took a step towards Harry so they were level. “Do you or your people have any plans of remaining in contact? Will we receive future visits?”

Harry hesitated. He couldn’t honestly, with one-hundred percent certainty, say that he wouldn’t be back. Especially because…

Well, just because he hadn’t found any trace of Sirius didn’t mean Sirius wasn’t here. There were ways around the point-me charm. Wards and any number of things could interfere. From the feel of Thor’s magic hammer, it seemed there might be a few things capable of matching Harry’s type of magic, and he wouldn’t put it past Sirius - alive or dead - to be right under his nose and still untraceable. 

Harry was in a bit of a conundrum. On the one hand, he could leave and never come back, on the other, he could leave a coin with them with the activation spell and forever be on call. There was also the possibility that Thor’s people could unravel the magic on the coin linking it to the Veil and Harry’s world’s specific dimensional sequence. 

He was pretty sure Kingsley would have kittens if he came back and announce that they may need to prepare for inter-dimensional diplomatic relations with a realm of Norse Gods. Although, if he _did_...Friday night’s betting pool down at the pub would be the most interesting one yet.

“Mr. Potter?” Fury prompted, eyebrows rising. 

Harry sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair in defeat. “Honestly? I wasn’t planning on coming back, but…”

“We will not be seeing more of your people, then, Elder Harald?” Thor inquired with what sounded an awful lot like disappointment colouring his voice.

“But-” Stark protested. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Harry cut him off quickly and loudly. He was beginning to realise that Stark had to be cut off before he could gain momentum or else he spewed word-vomit much like someone cursed with a gabbing hex. “Honestly, this was just a cursory visit.”

Fury nodded to himself. He crossed his arms, fingers tapping his elbow. “Then so long as that remains the case, I’ll write this off as a need-to-know and keep it under wraps. The Council won’t hear anything.”

Harry was honestly surprised by how easily the man was giving in, all of a sudden. He gazed at Fury thoughtfully, trying to gauge his sincerity. The man gazed back blandly - an impressive poker face. 

“T’is a mighty shame our peoples will not have the opportunity to learn from one another,” Thor spoke sadly. He turned on Harry with a sigh and a tight smile and nodded his head once, solemnly. “Elder Harald, it was an honour.”

“Right, likewise,” Harry managed. 

Faced with such ridiculous disappointment and because, if he were being perfectly honest with himself, this world had proved to be highly entertaining, if a tad dangerous, Harry ended up sighing heavily and reaching into his moleskin pouch. _Let’s hope this doesn’t come back to bite me on the arse,_ he thought as he pulled out one of his coins and set it to the right frequency. He thrust it towards Thor, gold shining brightly in the palm of his hand. “Here.”

Thor plucked the golden coin out of his hand gingerly, holding it up to the light. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Fury narrow his eyes. Stark shuffled closer for a better look and Barton was - Harry blinked. Barton was, somehow, perched on top of an industrial fridge, bow resting lightly across his knees. 

Alright then.

“Your currency?” Thor mused, turning the coin over in his fingers. 

“Not exactly.” Slowly, Harry explained the purpose of the coin. He pointed to the code running along the rim and explained how the coin was spelled to alert their side of the portal if someone activated it with the right spell. When it came time to show Thor the spell, he was right to assume that some aspects of their magics coincided. Thor nodded along with thoughtful hums and then exclaimed that activating the latent magic on the coin would be no problem for Asgard. 

That’s when things took a turn for the worse again. 

Fury stepped forward and opened his hand. “I think that device should stay in S.H.I.E.L.D custody, after all, Mr. Potter’s portal opens up on Earth, not Asgard.” His expression and tone said, ‘Hand it over’. 

Thor slowly tightened his hand around the coin and already Harry could sense the fight about to break out. “Wait!” He exclaimed, hand already diving into his pouch. Before Thor could get a proper grip on the huge, magic hammer he had strapped to his side, Harry pulled a second coin out of his pouch and set the code. He shoved it at Fury. “Here. Plenty to go around.”

As Fury was staring at the coin Harry had dropped into his black leather clad hands, Harry pulled his journal and an ever-inking quill from his pouch. He really needed to be taking notes on all of this, especially if he gave away two of his coins. He quickly scribbled their assigned designations down, so that he’d know which was in whose hands. He honestly wasn’t sure whether he should have given one to Fury - the man practically screamed ‘shady government organisation’ - but if it meant preventing a fight, it was worth it. 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry heard Stark say in that condescending tone. “It’s like they walk straight out of a Shakespearean play. If Shakespeare wrote about aliens.”

Harry rolled his eyes and closed his journal again, putting it away. Fury stared at the pouch, then down at his hand, and despite the fact that his face was blank, Harry could just _feel_ the cogs whirring in his head. 

“I _gotta_ figure out how he does that,” Stark muttered. 

“Dude, get in line,” Barton replied from his perch on top of the fridge.

Harry twitched. That was not normal behaviour. Was he really human? It was a super-human thing, it had to be. Super-humans were weird. He’d always thought wizards and witches got things a bit backwards, but his perspective had since broadened. He knew now that witches and wizards weren’t all that strange a culture in comparison to _some_. 

“The same activation sequence applies?” Fury finally asked, after finishing his inspection of the coin Harry had given him. 

“Yes, but don’t,” Harry replied sternly. “I’m giving them to you as a courtesy, _not_ as an invitation. We don’t want to open communication or contact or trade or anything. It’s an ‘in case of emergencies’ method of contact.” At this he levelled Thor with a stern look. Thor frowned a little, like someone had kicked his favourite puppy. Harry was unmoved. Thor sighed. 

“I understand, Elder Harald. I will make my father aware of your terms.” He sketched a short bow, barely more than a head bob. “I thank you, nevertheless, for your consideration.”

Harry blinked. A second later he remembered his manners and bowed back. “Of course. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Fury just narrowed his good eye as he watched them both. Harry thought he could do with some lessons in diplomacy. Thor might have been overenthusiastic, but at least he wasn’t rude or self-important about it.

Fury, on the other hand, was a bit like Harry remembered Scrimgeour. Sly, demanding, important, no time for beating around the bush. If Scrimgeour had been a great, maned lion, then Fury was the sleek, deadly panther. _Black_ panther, he thought, eying the abundance of black leather present.

Everyone seemed to focus on the three-way stand-off between Harry, Thor and Fury, so eventually, Fury shifted and simply nodded his head curtly. “If you ever do come back, I want your assurance that you will check in with S.H.I.E.L.D immediately upon re-entry onto our planet.”

Harry thought this over. Since he wasn’t ever _planning_ on coming back, entertaining bunch of assorted super-heroes or not, he shrugged. “Alright. And you won’t use the coin.”

Fury’s eyebrow rose sardonically. “Then why bother giving it to us?”

Thor also turned questioning eyes on Harry. 

Harry shifted his stance and gave an awkward, one-shouldered shrug. “Just…in case, I suppose. And by that I don’t mean another alien invasion, deal with it on your own. I mean…just in case you get another dimensional traveller like me…or something.”

It would just help him sleep at night knowing that if someone a mite more hostile than Harry ever stepped through the Veil into this particular world…well, they’d have a way of contacting him to come deal with it. Really, Wizard business should remain within its own dimension. 

Fury’s one dark eye bored through him. “You mean to tell me there may be others?”

Harry shrugged again. “Highly unlikely. In fact, I’d say there is _very_ infinitesimally small likelihood you will ever see another traveller like me again, but I wouldn’t say never. Like I said, this is a just-in-case measure.”

Thor threw back his shoulders and inclined his head like a gracious king accepting a caveat. “Understood.”

Fury’s mouth twisted, but eventually, he nodded as well.

Harry glanced around at the assembled group of super-human heroes. “Alright, well I’d best be off then. Lovely to meet you, good luck with any future alien invasions, etcetera.”

Stark opened his mouth to say something, but by some kind of miracle, closed it again before a sound emerged. He looked a little sulky, like someone had taken away his favourite toy. It was the Captain America who stepped forward and raised his hand for a firm shake. Harry, not to disappoint, gripped it firmly and refused to let the wince cross his face at Rogers’ inhumanly strong hold. “Thank you for your assistance. You saved lives today, and we will always be grateful for that.”

Harry dropped his hand to his side and surreptitiously stretched his whitened fingers. The man was _strong._ And that was his dominant _wand hand_. That was the last time he would shake a super-strengthened human’s hands. He cleared his throat. “I just did what any decent person would do when faced with the same situation.”

The group exchanged glances. Harry saw Romanoff’s lips twitch like she thought he had made a humorous joke. Barton just barked a laugh and shook his head. 

Rogers raised his chin and declared, like he was making some kind of grand statement. “No, you did what any _hero_ would do.”

Stark smirked. 

Thor nodded, beaming. 

Banner gave him a ‘what can you do’ lip quirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Right, okay. I’m off, then.”

And with that, he didn’t stick around any longer. If he gave these people an inch, they would clearly take a mile. No, he turned sharply in place, and the last thing he saw before he apparated was the look of confusion on Stark’s face slowly morph into wide-eyed surprise, and then he raised a hand, mouth opening…and Harry was whisked away. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Thoughts?
> 
> Come find me [on Tumblr](http://supermagicmarvel.tumblr.com)!  
> Link to this post on my tumblr: [here!](http://supermagicmarvel.tumblr.com/post/141388418936/misunderstandings-and-an-alien-invasion-aytheria)


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